Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly
by VoyICJ
Summary: Mrs. Hughes is feeling a little low right before Christmas and Mr. Carson tries to make it better. Mild season 5 spoilers.


The lovely Ladies of Tumblr said it's not too early to post a Christmas themed story, so here it is. Please note that this story should not be taken too seriously. It's meant to provide some fluff and humor on dreary November days.

There are mild season 5 spoilers.

* * *

Charles Carson allowed his eyes to roam over Downton's Great Hall, taking in the festive decorations; the small bows of red and green placed on the stairway, the way the Christmas decorations on the impressive Christmas tree reflected the light coming from outside.

Although he'd never admit it aloud, he loved this part of the year. It always seemed as if the Abbey was at its best at Christmas time. It seemed to shine from within. Which probably was why the family had decided to put up the decorations a little early this year, with Christmas still a week away.

Just like the building, its occupants also performed a startling transformation each year. Around the first of December people seemed to become mellower, more at ease with each other – even if work downstairs increased and there was hardly a night on which they didn't entertain.

He surveyed the Great Hall once more before making his way downstairs. He shooed a hallboy and a maid away from under a mistletoe, which had mysteriously appeared over one of the linen cupboards yesterday. He put on a show of great displeasure, giving both servants an earful about proper behaviour during working hours (and after, come to think of it), hoping to discourage such behaviour in the future. Just because he enjoyed the festive seasons, it didn't mean that standards should be lowered, rules and boundaries blurred or – worse – forgotten.

He then made his way to the Housekeeper's parlour. He had a bit of free time before lunch needed to be served and as it was often the case lately, he thought he could spend it with her. Having a cup of tea together, discussing the goings-on of the house (Charles Carson would never gossip as a matter of principle, but discussions were fine – necessary really to ensure the seamless running of the great estate).

He gave a short knock and entered without waiting for her invitation to step inside. She sat at her desk, scribbling in one of her accounting books.

"Have a seat, Mr. Carson, I only need a moment longer," she told him, barely looking up from her writing – perfectly accustomed to their new tradition of mid-morning tea.

He settled himself in the chair next to the door, smiling softly when he noticed a tray with teapot, two cups and a selection of biscuits already there. He readied his own cup before preparing hers – just the way she liked it.

When she continued writing, he let his eyes wander over her sitting room. It was as familiar to him as his own pantry… and yet something bothered him about it this time. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but something was wrong, missing.

The answer came to him just as she emitted a content sigh and closed her book. She got up and settled down in the chair opposite of him, smiling her thanks at him for the tea.

"I see that you haven't put up any Christmas decorations this year, Mrs. Hughes," he remarked; not quite sure why it would bother him so much that there was no straw star hanging in her window this year. That there was no festive holly garland hung over the fireplace. Her decorations had never been ostentatious, had in fact been every bit as unobtrusive as the woman who put them up. Yet, they had always added a certain homey feeling to the room, one he was now missing.

"Oh yes, I seem to have forgotten about them this year," she replied, trying to sound as if she had only just noticed the decorations' absence.

She didn't fool him, not a bit. He gazed at her over the rim of his teacup, simply raising one sceptical eyebrow, which he hoped was enough to cause her to amend her statement.

"It just didn't feel right, not with Anna locked away in some god-awful prison. With Mr. Branson and Miss Sibbie leaving soon," she defended herself. "I don't think there's very much to celebrate this year," she finished quietly, her eyes dropping to the teacup in her hands.

His eyes had softened while listening to her sombre admission. It broke his heart to see her so dispirited. "This isn't like you, Mrs. Hughes. You've never let yourself be defeated by life's challenges."

She smiled at him sadly. "Maybe it is becoming like me, who knows."

Her words unsettled him, caused his heart to beat quicker in his chest. He didn't like the gloomy atmosphere that had seemed to settle over her. She had always been so very strong. For him, for Mr. Branson, for all the servants. He wasn't sure what he, what they would do if she lost that confidence, that strength that had often carried them all through the worst of situations.

"Mrs. Hughes," he began haltingly, entirely unsure of how to react to her words, of how to make it better. Because that was what he wanted, to make it better, to replace that frown on her face with a hopeful smile.

There was a knock at the door to her parlour and Mr. Carson wasn't sure whether to feel upset or grateful about it.

"Mrs. Hughes, I really need to go through the order list for the Christmas festivities with you," Mrs. Patmore said, sounding almost apologetic.

"I'll be in the kitchen in a minute," the Housekeeper promised and the Cook left again. Mrs. Hughes put her teacup down with a small sigh.

"Oh don't look so gloomy, Mr. Carson," she said softly. "I'm sure I'll snap out of this soon, no need to worry yourself."

She made a valiant effort of giving him a reassuring smile but it didn't reach her eyes. He watched her as she left her parlour, his brows drawn together in worried concentration.

* * *

"Mr. Carson, here's the updated guest list for the dinner tomorrow evening. Lord and Lady Lumley will stay for the night. I've had the Blue Room prepared for them."

"Ah, thank you Mrs. Hughes." He took the list from her and gave it a quick once-over while she continued standing in front of his desk, waiting for his nod of approval.

When he looked up again, his response died on his lips. She looked tired.

Of course they were all busy during the Christmas season, but she shouldn't be looking this tired.

"The list is fine," he told her. She gave him a quick nod, her eyes dull, and turned to leave.

"Actually, Mrs. Hughes, have you got a moment?" He had wanted to wait until tonight, until after the family had gone up, before giving her his surprise, but he couldn't bear the forlorn look on her face for a moment longer.

"Of course, Mr. Carson, what is it?" she asked, but didn't sit down as he had thought she would.

He got up from his desk and went over to the silver cupboard. He retrieved a little square box and handed it to her.

"It's a little early for Christmas gifts," she told him in confusion as she held the little green box in her hands.

"It's not technically a Christmas gift, so I think we're fine," he replied calmly – nothing in his demeanour belying how nervous he really was. "I just wanted to remind you that there are things to celebrate and be grateful for – even this year."

"I don't know what to say," she stammered, still not having opened the box.

"Why don't you open it first and then say something," he suggested kindly.

She carefully lifted the top and reached inside. She removed a small arrangement of sprigs of holly, bound together with a pretty red, velvet bow. Dangling from the ends of the bow were two identical keys. It was obviously meant to be a decoration for her sitting room.

"You're grateful for two unused keys from the Abbey?" she teased – hoping that an attempt at sass would buy her a few more moments to get the emotions his lovely gesture had released inside her back under control.

"These aren't keys from the Abbey and I very much hope that they won't stay unused for much longer," he replied quietly, fixing her with an intense glare. His brown eyes swimming with warmth.

"I don't understand," she whispered, proud of being able to utter even this much.

"I hope you will not be angry, but I went to Mr. Samuels this morning and made the deposit for his cottage. I know we haven't discussed it one last time, but I think it really is the perfect cottage for us."

"You mean our tenants, don't you?" she interjected quietly, trying to slow her wildly beating heart while she waited for his response.

"No, I meant us," he replied firmly.

"And this is what you are grateful for?" she asked softly.

"Very."

For a second neither of them spoke. Then something between a laugh and a sob escaped Mrs. Hughes' throat and she walked up to him. He put a gentle hand to her cheek and ran his thumb over it lovingly. She leant her head into his hand, savouring the feeling of his warm and tender hand on her face. He lowered his head slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wished. She closed the final centimetres between them.

And then everything else in the world ceased to matter as their lips met for the first time.

* * *

Mr. Molesley came running down the servants' stairway, nearly tumbling down the last few steps. When he saw that the servants' hall was empty, he raced into the kitchen where he stopped, panting heavily.

"Mr. Molesley, what on Earth is the matter with you?" Mrs. Patmore asked, in equal parts unsettled and amused by the footman's antics.

Mr. Molesley tried to answer but couldn't seem to be able to catch his breath. He put his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths before righting himself again, wiping his handkerchief over his forehead. By now the other servants gathered in the kitchen for a little impromptu tea break looked at Mr. Molesley with bemused interest.

"Mr. Bates, you're needed upstairs, there's a telegram."

Instantly a hush fell over the kitchen, all eyes focussed on the valet.

Mr. Bates got up from the chair near the kitchen's entrance with surprising agility. "Is it what I hope it is?" he asked the footman, his voice unusually brittle.

A broad grin broke out on Mr. Molesley's face as he nodded enthusiastically.

For a second Ms. Baxter thought that Mr. Bates might actually break into tears then and there, but he caught himself. He smiled at everyone present in the kitchen before hurrying upstairs.

"Is it really true?" Mrs. Patmore asked, a soft smile on her lips.

"It seems that way, at least judging from the satisfied smiles on his Lordship's and Lady Mary's faces."

"I'm so glad," Ms. Baxter said.

"We should tell Mrs. Hughes, she'll be that chuffed about the news," Daisy suddenly spoke up and everyone nodded in agreement. Not only Mrs. Patmore had noticed how much the young Lady's maid's plight had affected the Housekeeper.

"Go on then, Daisy. And you, too, Mr. Molesley. You really should have the honour of giving the good news. I believe she's in Mr. Carson's pantry."

Daisy enthusiastically bustled from the kitchen, Mr. Molesley right behind her. Just as Daisy made to knock on the door, Mr. Molesley lunged forward and grabbed her hand.

"Mr. Molesley, what is wrong?" Daisy asked in confusion as she took in the wide eyes of the footman.

"Uhm, I don't think you should knock right now," Mr. Molesley stammered.

"Why ever not?" Daisy asked indignantly. "Mrs. Hughes would want to know."

Mr. Molesley simply shook his head vigorously.

"What in the Lord's name are you two doing out here?" Mrs. Patmore asked as she stepped out into the hallway.

"Mr. Molesley doesn't want me to knock and he's looking all funny. Are you having a stroke, Mr. Molesley?" Daisy asked in concern.

The footman gave a long-suffering sigh before leaning down and clasping his hands together. "Come on, Daisy, take a look and then tell me whether you should knock."

Daisy stared at his clasped hands in alarm, more convinced than ever that Mr. Molesley had really lost the last of his marbles. In the end though, her curiosity won out and she carefully placed her foot onto the footman's clasped hands. He gave her a boost and she steadied herself on the window sill, peering through the small hallway window into the Butler's pantry. The window that Mr. Molesley was just tall enough to look through without any outside help.

When she finally caught a glimpse of the inside of Mr. Carson's pantry, the young Assistant Cook's eyes widened dramatically. "Oh my God," she breathed; then giggled happily.

"What? What is it?" Mrs. Patmore asked, getting impatient and frustrated about being left out. When neither Daisy nor Mr. Molelsey answered, she growled in displeasure, headed back into the kitchen and returned a second later with one of the chairs that usually sat around the kitchen's small table.

She positioned the chair next to Daisy and with a groan hoisted herself up. She had to stand on her toes to be able to see something but then –

"OH MY GOD!"

Mrs. Patmore's loud exclamation startled Daisy, who promptly began to lose her balance. Mr. Molesley tried to steady her but it was to no avail. With an almighty crash all three of them fell to the floor.

* * *

The two occupants of the pantry had been blissfully unaware of the goings-on in the hallway, too caught up in each other. In the way Mr. Carson's hands pressed her so tightly against him, the way in which Mrs. Hughes would moan in delighted pleasure every time Mr. Carson kissed that one special spot just below her left ear.

Upon Mrs. Patmore's shocked exclamation and the subsequent crash, they jumped apart. Both were breathing heavily, trying to puzzle out what had just happened. Mr. Carson tugged at his waistcoat and drew a shaking hand through his hair while Mrs. Hughes hastily righted her dress and tugged a few loose strands of hair back into place before both scrambled outside.

Whatever they had expected to find, it most certainly wasn't the picture that presented itself to them as soon as they had stepped out of the Butler's pantry.

Daisy, Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Molesley lay in a tangled heap on the floor. A broken kitchen chair was buried under Mrs. Patmore and Ms. Baxter was making a valiant effort of helping the three people to disentangle.

"What is going on out here?" Mr. Carson's voice thundered.

Daisy was the first who managed to scramble up from the floor. With a crimson face she tried to stammer an explanation to the Butler, whose eyebrows had risen to his hairline.

"Oh stop the hammering, girl!" Mrs. Patmore ordered after Ms. Baxter had finally managed to help the older woman off the floor. "I apologize for this racket, but Mr. Molesley and I had an unfortunate little accident which had to do with not looking where we were going. I'm not entirely sure how Daisy got caught up in this mess, but before I knew what was happening, we all found ourselves flat on our faces. "

There was silence as all the servants stared at Mrs. Patmore. Daisy and Mr. Molesley because they were in awe of Mrs. Patmore's ability to lie so seamlessly and Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes because they didn't know what to make of the story.

"Are you alright?" The Housekeeper finally asked, having noticed how both Mr. Molesley and Mrs. Patmore rubbed their backs.

"Yes, yes, fit as a fiddle," Mrs. Patmore waved her friend's concern away. Daisy gratefully took the opportunity to hurry back into the kitchen while Mr. Molesley picked up the sorry remains of the kitchen chair and with Ms. Baxter's help carried them outside.

"I just hope we haven't interrupted anything important," Mrs. Patmore said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and then nearly lost her act when both Housekeeper and Butler blushed to their roots. The Cook turned towards her kitchen, wincing at the movement. She took a few careful steps before stopping again. She turned around and grinned broadly at Butler and Housekeeper.

"Oh and Mr. Carson, you have lipstick on your collar. I wasn't aware that you have a mistletoe in your pantry, maybe I should stop by later," the Cook teased cheekily before quickly disappearing into the kitchen.

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes stood in the middle of the hallway, thunderstruck. At long last, the hysterical giggles coming from the kitchen propelled Mrs. Hughes into action. She started to rush towards the kitchen, but a strong grip on her arm held her back.

The Butler shook his head and if she hadn't known better, she'd have sworn that there was amusement in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter," he rumbled softly.

"Doesn't it?" she asked, astounded by his words.

"It doesn't," he replied firmly and was rewarded with the most brilliant smile on her face.

"Oh, I just thought you'd like to know," Mrs. Patmore had mysteriously re-appeared in the hallway, causing the Butler and Housekeeper to jump apart a second time this afternoon. "There was a telegram earlier. Anna has been released, all charges dropped." The Cook was gone again before either of them could react to the news.

"Oh my," Elsie breathed, tears gathering in her eyes. She felt the Butler pulling her closer, hugging her tightly – in the middle of the hallway, for everyone to see.

"You see, now we have every reason to celebrate," he softly whispered into her ear and she pressed even closer to him.

"I guess I have some decorating to do," she replied and he chuckled softly in response.

* * *

When Mr. Bates returned downstairs an hour later – cheeks rosy, eyes shining with joy – he couldn't shake off the feeling that he had missed something vital while he had been gone. Mrs. Patmore was smugger than he had ever seen her, Daisy seemed to blush the colour of poinsettia every time she looked at anyone other than him and there was an atmosphere of complacency surrounding the Butler that was unheard of. Not to mention the soft smile that was continuously playing on the Housekeeper's lips which couldn't be explained by the news of Anna's release alone.

He truly couldn't wait for his wonderful wife to return to Downton. She'd make sure that he knew what the hell was going on.

I hope you've enjoyed this little piece of humorous fluff and please leave a review for me to enjoy on this dreary November day :) I know I haven't replied to the last reviews (long story) but I promise to do so again this time!


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